


Still Hanging On His Thread

by AwkwardDuckProducktions



Category: The Bastards Crew, The Mechanisms (Band)
Genre: Also they're a fabulous writer, And deserves the kudos, Cuz its the start of something new, Gen, I've never posted anything like this so I don't know how to tag, Idiot boy wins the hearts and concern of many with his travel hack, It'll make sense, Mechanisms universe, Please read Ikuras' No Good Very Bad Day first, Tired of girl in a box? Have I got the fic for you, Violence, not really gory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-08-20 12:23:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20227801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AwkwardDuckProducktions/pseuds/AwkwardDuckProducktions
Summary: Captain Fara wanted a drink and to not think about the crate they took from the hunk of junk.But being a captain means never getting what you want it seems





	Still Hanging On His Thread

Fara just wanted a drink. Preferably whiskey. She did not want to have to give up fuel for some outdated barely working flying piece of junk. She did not want to deal with the idea that the doctor had created more like her crew. And she certainly did not want to deal with whatever was in that cargo box that they found on his ship. That's why she put Tarsa and Bishop on that task. And that's why when she finally sat down to pour herself a drink, only to be called back with two high pitched screams, Captain Fara resigned the dream of the day cycle going in her favor.

"Care to explain, Tarsa?" Her voice low and dangerous, a lioness on the hunt.

"Bih- A Bih- A Bishop-" They sputtered and stopped like a dying engine, hands flailing wildly as they tried to speak.

"Can you tell me where is Bishop?" The spooked engineer could only point back towards the room. And just as they turned to flee, the captain grabbed their collarshirt and drug them back into the room, holding them in place behind her as she typed the code aggressively. The doors opened and the captain found new levels her annoyance could reach. Bishop was there, as Tarsa had pointed, with a screwdriver through his hands and an arm around his neck. The arm was not his, as Fara has found him before in such a position, but belonged to a man that stood over him. A man that she had no memory of whatsoever but was  _ on her ship. _

"Are you the captain?" The man asked, refusing to let go of the squirming Bishop from his neck hold.

"I am." She couldn't make out the pattern of his shirt, bright bold colors all seemingly to be out of place. Nothing she had ever seen before.

"Cool, mind if I stay for a bit here?"

"Are you going to kill him if I say no?"

"No." The man gave an oddly gentle smile. "He attacked first, I'm just holding onto him so he doesn't kill me and we can have a conversation." Fara noticed the glint of metal under his collar, surrounded by old scars that healed poorly. "If you want me to go, I will."

"Where did you even come from?" Everything she could tell about this man was immediately contradicted by his unnervingly soft eyes and light voice.

"Like planetwise? You wouldn't have heard of it anyways. Or do you mean my family-"

"How. did. you. get. on. my. ship." Fara was in very desperate need of that drink she almost had.

"Crate." He was almost too at ease for comfort. The same  _ motherfucking _ crate from their encounter with another  _ motherfucking _ mech laid open and empty.

"Right... great." She mumbled under her breath.

"Right, the crate."

"What-" Fara was already dreading speaking to him beyond this. "I said 'great'. That's besides the point." Bishop looked nearly completely blue hanging limp in his grasp. "Let go of him, don't want him bitching about dying again."

"Is he going to try to kill me?" The man asked, his tone demanded for her command.

"He won't try to kill you today." He smiled and let go. Bishop crumbled to the floor, hacking and coughing like an old spacesuit coming back to life.

"Captain-" Tarsa spoke up finally, only to be silenced by her unrelenting voice.

"What is your name?"

"Anansi." The man replied. "Pleasure to meet everyone's acquaintances."

"Fuck you." Bishop rasped out in a sour whisper.

"Eat shit." Anansi gleefully responded.

"That's enough!" Both turned away with each other with a grumpiness nearly matching Fara's. Her patience rarely ever lasting now felt like an ice cube in a frying pan. But to her luck, the diplomat finally joined them.

"I heard a- _ ohmystarswhoisthat! _ " Wren, ever so grateful with words, all but screamed upon entering.

"Hello! I'm Anansi!" Fara found it odd, well... other people odd but what appeared to be his normal, that his right arm hung limp to his side. Moments ago, it nearly strangled a life out of Bishop but now it was like dead weight.

"How did you get on the ship?"

"Crate." The more Fara studied him, the more she realized his whole right side seem to slump.

"The crate from the ship- _ ohmystars! _ " Their hands covered their mouth in shock as with careful calculations were made inside their head. Slowly they uncovered their mouth and in nearly a whisper, they asked: "Was he going to... sel-"

"Nonononono!" Anansi jumped at the accusation. "I get sold to no one! I work for myself!" Wren let out a relieved sigh. They turned briefly towards Fara, raised eyebrows asking for permission. She granted with a slight nod.

"Why were you in the crate?"

"It's how I travel." His response momentarily slowed by what almost looked like a reboot. His eyes fluttered and snapped open for a brief moment.

"By crate?"

"Yes, it's the cheapest way to travel. Mind if I sit?" He made no attempt to wait for a response as he sat down beside the crate. Bishop saw it as an opportunity for revenge and made the attempt to kick him from his prone state. Anansi made no attempt to fight back, focus fixated on Wren.

"What do you mean by that?" They questioned further.

"It's simple really. I find a crate. I hop into said crate. And I get shipped to wherever the crate was being shipped to." His easy trusting smile never faltered, no matter how much it seemed the rest of him was falling apart.

"Wren." Fara had made her decision. "A word?" She finally let go of Tarsa, who took the opportunity to scramble over to Bishop to kick him first, then help his little hand predicament. Wren followed Fara into the far corner.

"We can't let him leave." Wren begged. "The boy is an idiot. He'll die out there."

"He won't die." The captain declared in a hushed tone. "But we still can't let him leave." She turned her back to the three, Tarsa and Bishop bickering about whether or not to pull the screwdriver out and Anansi, who stared at them in the corner across the room with blank happy eyes. Like the eyes of a spider luring a fly into its web. "He's like us." Wren mulled over the statement and with wide eyes turned back to Fara.

"Two? In one day?" The captain nodded solemnly.

"At least his right shoulder is meched."

"What about the slouching?" Wren prodded. "I've never heard of parts... what? running out of power?"

"My guess? He's a lot older than us." She could feel his eyes on her back, impatient little spider. A howl came from across the room as Tarsa pinned Bishop's wrists beneath their knee and yanked out the screwdriver. "But I want to learn more about he knows about the fucking doctor. And I don't think he'll tell us that information today." Fara stole a glance back at him. Still his dark bronze eyes held their gaze. "Plus I get the feeling if we tell him to go, he'll ask us to launch him out the airlock and that feels... awful."

"Because he's an idiot?" Wren's smug gaze met with Fara's hesitance.

"... Yeah..." She mustered out through her teeth-clenched grimace, trusting Wren to not ruin her hard earned reputation by letting the others know she actually worried for someone. Much less a stranger. Much much less a strange stranger. "Plus you know what they say about enemies."

"To love them because they tell you how fucked you are?" They offered with a puzzled look.

"What?" Wren could only offer a shrug at her. "No, it's to keep them close."

"Oooooooh!" Fara rubbed a hand down her face in little hope of wiping any evidence of any emotion away. She turned on her heels back towards him, Tarsa and Bishop escaped seemingly quietly. Yet still he sat there on the floor, ever patience for the captain's decision.

"You can stay until we reached the next fuel stop."

"Thank you." Not a moment Fara doubted his honesty and that scared her more than anything.

"You'll be restricted to your quarters and the mess hall. Our AI will obliterate you if you try to test it."

"I am here by your generosity." He moved to stand but fell back onto his left knee. "In no means," Anansi hauled himself upright and for a mere second, his smile was lost to pain, "I wouldn't want to betray that."

Later well into the evening of the day cycle, Fara remembered something from long ago as she finished her whiskey. A story. A fairytale. About how a man traded his family to escape the cold clutches of Death. She hadn't thought of that story in what well could possibly be forever, but she just noticed the spider's web up in the corner of her control room.  _ When you see webs in the corner, _ the memory spoke,  _ you know that it's Anansi the spider still running. _

* * *


End file.
